We stayed up all night waiting for the snow storm, huddled together downstairs watching movies and peering outside frequently to see if the storm had arrived. I logged online every hour to check the current weather. Dinner plans with out-of-town friends were canceled for fear of icy roads and delayed flights. The weathermen never really seem to be able to predict the weather. They say snow storm and it usually is the exact opposite.
We were hoping for a snow day. The kind where you stay inside all day to watch the snow fall like it’s the most magnificent thing you’ve ever seen. The kind where you bundle up in a hundred mis-matched layers to walk one block in knee-high snow to check the mail. The kind where you can make snow forts and snowballs and snow anything because anything made with snow day snow is therefore fun and magical.
It snowed all day but the huge snowflakes swirled around in crazy flight patterns without ever really sticking to the ground. Sly’s office closed so officially it was a “snow day.” I kept waiting and waiting and waiting for the big storm, the one that would make it impossible to open my back door without piles of snow falling inside, but that never happened.
I gave up waiting and finally went outside to enjoy what was left of my snow day. I let the kitties out on our deck to see if they would love snow as much as I do. (They don’t.) Sly cooked up a feast (another reason I love snow days) of classic court bouillon with homemade cocktail sauce and classic French-style mussels. I think I may be the only person left on the East Coast that keeps urging this cold crappy weather to stick around just a little longer. I can’t help it, I love Winter.
PS: Sorry for the schizophrenic blogging and for breaking out my travel posts into a million tiny posts. The only way I can handle editing large amounts of photos is if I take them in chunks. Plus when writing about SF, I get a bit nostalgic and I can only deal with my sentimental self in small doses.
